


Concrete Mirage

by tobiyos



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Blow Jobs in a Car, Car Sex, Crying, Dacryphilia, Established Relationship, Facials, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Top Akechi Goro, background pegoryu if you squint, bottom mishima yuuki, goro akechi and the plight of his horny boyfriend, lots of mentions of sweating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:48:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29569872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobiyos/pseuds/tobiyos
Summary: Goro feels his eye twitch, hands squeezing and relaxing on the steering wheel. He misses the Mishima that was panting into his mouth, fisting hands in his shirt and trying to pull them into a tumble in the front seat, not the one sweating and complaining Goro turn the already maxed out air conditioning up higher.When we get home,Goro had said.You know, like an idiot.--There are really only a few things you can do when you're trapped in traffic with your boyfriend.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Mishima Yuuki
Kudos: 36





	Concrete Mirage

**Author's Note:**

> Mooore Mishima/Akechi because I am trapped inside because of this snowstorm, and smut will keep me warm if nothing else will <3

“I’m allowed to say it’s hot as shit right? We are at the point where we can admit it’s fucking hot?”

Mishima sighs, and Goro taps his fingers against the steering wheel impatiently. “Yes, it’s hot. We’ve mentioned how hot it is a few times now, actually.”

Goro growls. “Well, why isn’t it making it _cooler_?”

He knew this was a bad idea. As much as Goro _loves_ driving half an hour out to go visit Akira and Ryuji randomly in the middle of a blissfully free weekend—read: he fucking hates it—he is unfortunately and clinically weak to Mishima’s begging, the insufferable little sparkle to his eyes when he begs Goro to join him and… ugh. _Civilize_.

But Goro is stuck to his seat with sweat, and glaring at the bright sun, trying to drown out the dull rumble around him for some semblance of peace, and all he can think is that _now_ he might be a little more inclined to shut Mishima down before he has to do another trial by fire. Or, any temperature high enough to make the concrete ripple.

The heat is _oppressive_ in every single sense, overbearing and suffocating in the middle of summer. Goro feels like he’s being pushed towards the core of the earth, swaddled in magma and hurdling straight for the sun. He’s sweating so much he could probably water a small farm, and Mishima himself doesn’t seem to be in any better shape, wiping dripping perspiration off of his face on occasion and trying to fan himself with one of the bullshit pamphlets Goro has been handed that he tucks up into the passenger’s seat mirror.

He also can’t quite figure out where to direct his anger, completely still in the seat of his car, so all he can do is glower straight in front of him and thank the universe that they gave him a boyfriend who knows him well enough to sense he’s more bark than bite. Most of the time, at least.

“Can you _please_ get us some less congested directions home?” Goro asks.

He sees Mishima tug at his shirt out of the corner of his eye, and urges himself not to roll his eyes when his boyfriend blows cool air down his chest. Like _that_ is going to help anything. “This _was_ the best route. Not my fault you decided to go home during rush hour.”

“Son of a bitch,” Goro murmurs, reaching up to undo another button on his shirt. It’s stripped down the entirety of his chest now, hanging on for dear life at his shoulders, and he’d be more self-conscious if he weren’t sporting a tank top underneath as well. Fuck, even just _that_ is hot.

He honks his horn irritably, glaring at the line of cars in front of _and_ behind him that are at a complete standstill. If this were literally anybody else’s car, he’d just get out and _walk_ home, but Mishima will whine and complain the entire way back if they do that, not to mention the ramifications of just leaving their car in the middle of the street. Fuck.

They’d started the day well enough, seeing as breakfast with Akira and Ryuji had happened early enough that Goro’s skin hadn’t felt like it was melting off, and their apartment had been cool enough that even as the heat did begin to settle in, it was more of a reminder that it was summer than a bonfire. Hot enough for Akira to bring out an extra fan or two, for Ryuji to pull out the ice packs he stockpiles for everyday injury. It wasn’t uncomfortable.

But Goro has what Mishima has dubbed his ‘social timer’ and when it runs out, it runs out, and both Akira and Ryuji were kind enough to not take it personally as Goro had pushed Mishima out of the door with a goodbye, aching to get home, and maybe into bed before he had to get some work done. That was, of course, before he’d noticed the way sweat made Mishima gleam in the sunlight, his face flushed and eyelashes lowered against the harsh light, and suddenly an easy trip home turned into an impatient one-sided dash to get Mishima back to their car so he could push him up against the door and kiss him senseless.

“ _Goro_ ,” Mishima whines, and Goro feels his eye twitch, hands squeezing and relaxing on the steering wheel. He misses the Mishima that was panting into his mouth, fisting hands in his shirt and trying to pull them into a tumble in the front seat. _When we get home_ , Goro had said. You know, like an idiot. “Turn the air conditioning up.”

“The air conditioning _is_ up,” Goro huffs. “So are the windows, and the fucking sunroof, and I’d punch a goddamn hole in the windshield if it wouldn’t get us pulled over.” He glances over at Mishima in the seat. “And quit _squirming_ , you’re just making yourself warmer—” he stops with a sucked in breath, as Mishima lets go of the edge of his shirt and lets it fall back against his chest again, the material hugging tight to the barely there curve of his chest now that it’s soaked in sweat. And, _oh_ , Goro should _not_ find that as attractive as he does, even though the material is translucent with wetness and just barely darker where Mishima’s nipples would be. He faces back forward with a grunt.

“Can you—”

“Shut up.”

“You didn’t even know what I was going to say!” Mishima gasps, affronted.

Goro grumbles under his breath. “You were most likely going to ask me to do something I have already done, which would not help, and make me irritable, as well as serving to make me hotter. So, I tried to get it over with as fast as possible.”

Mishima is quiet for a few moments. “Are you irritable now?”

“I will be,” Goro says quietly.

Mishima is silent again. “Goro.”

“ _What_ , Yuuki?”

Mishima shifts slightly in his seat, and the movement draws Goro’s eyes back to him, though they inevitably drop down to linger at his chest again. “I’m hard,” Mishima whispers.

“Oh my god,” Goro groans.

“I can’t help it—”

“What do you mean you can’t _help it_ —”

“You’re just sitting there all—”

“Sweaty? Gross?”

“You said when we get _home,_ but now you’re soaking through that little button up and sliding it off of your shoulder like that—”

“Oh, so _sweaty_ and _gross_. Right, got it.”

“Goro!” Mishima whines again, sinking down into the seat. “ _Please._ ”

“What?” Goro laughs, leaning over the center console to smirk _directly_ into Mishima’s line of sight. “It’s _hot_ ,” he breathes, and presses a hand to the side of Mishima’s face. “And I am _driving_.”

“But—” Mishima whimpers.

Goro sits up to shift the car back into drive long enough to craw a measly four inches forward, before he’s immediately going back into park. “Be hard all you want—just don’t make it my problem.”

Mishima sucks in a breath, that leaves Goro with the distinct feeling he’s about to start off rambling off all the reasons Goro should _help_ him, but then he’s… quiet. Unusually quiet.

“Yuuki,” Goro says lowly, gripping tighter at the steering wheel. “If I look over and find you with your hand in your pants, I’m leaving you in this car.”

Another, blissful moment of silence. It’s just a second, but Goro knows that this will probably be the last moment of peace he gets for the day. It’s nice. Warm. If he could just get a moment’s reprieve—

“You just said not to make it your problem,” Mishima whispers.

Jesus Christ.

He takes a chance—shocker, he knows—and glances at Mishima sideways, very carefully glancing away from the sweat glittering in Mishima’s collarbone.

Mishima has his legs spread, a hand clutched gently at his cock through his pants, and Goro scowls up at his flushed face, though he has no idea if that’s from his… predicament or the heat.

“Yuuki,” Goro says flatly.

“I can’t help it,” Mishima whines, with another slow stroke of his hand down his thigh that makes Goro’s whole body thrum uncomfortably. He is _hot_ , but the way Mishima’s loose shorts bunch up as he hands move has more warmth than should be comfortable spiking through him dangerously, filling him from his stomach up through his throat. “I’m miserable here. Let me get a little enjoyment out of this.”

“Out of oogling me while you jerk yourself off?” Goro laughs. “That’s bold, even for you.”

Big game from somebody sporting a semi in uncomfortably sweaty boxers, sure, but the most pressing issue currently is that Goro’s very cute boyfriend is leaning back in the passenger’s seat of his car, sweaty and flushed from head to toe, spread out and… _aching_ , and it would be so easy to just… reach over and give him a hand. Mishima is so _easy_ —It wouldn’t take much to get him riled up, and _then_ he can just take him home and fuck him senseless.

The car behind him honks, and Goro snaps out of his haze long enough to glance forward and realize he needs to move forward the next designated foot and a half. Yippie. He’s going to kill Akira for this.

“There are people in the cars around us, you know.”

“I don’t think they can _see_ me,” Mishima mumbles, and Goro grits his teeth when his partner lets out a pleasured little sigh that sounds uncomfortably familiar. It’s the sound he makes on Goro’s fingers, on his tongue, when he’s spread out on their bed and staring dazed down at Goro with big, blown out pupils, a trembling lip—

“Put your dick away!” Goro barks, wincing when he realizes that the woman in the car on his right also has her window rolled down. He purposefully does not look in her direction.

“It’s not _out_ ,” Mishima shoots back, albeit a bit quieter. “Why?” he snickers. “Wanna see it?”

 _Yes_ , Goro thinks, at the same time he shoots Mishima what he hopes is a withering glare. Based on the way he’s grinning, and reaching up to press the fingertips of his free hand up his sweaty shirt, it’s not working. And based on the way Goro swallows at the first sight of Mishima’s beautiful, sweat soaked skin from underneath the translucent fabric, it seems like it might not matter.

“Don’t you want to touch me, _Goro_?” Mishima whispers quietly, sweetly. Goro grunts, and then starts when he feels a hand brush his on the center console, Mishima’s shadow blocking out the sidelong sun as he leans closer.

“I’m not giving you a hand job while I’m trying to drive,” Goro grunts, and he thinks he’s suddenly been gifted with the patience of a saint, because he doesn’t even _think_ to look back at Mishima.

Mishima hums. “Can I touch you, then?”

“What—” Goro starts, cut off with a breathless gasp when Mishima licks a filthy stripe up the side of his face. It makes his gut clench tight, stomach bottoming out as his cock gives an embarrassing twitch, because Mishima is ridiculous and clumsy in his efforts to be appealing, and he knows it will still turn him on anyway. “Little shit,” he admonishes, turning to see Mishima’s face all screwed up. “What.”

“You’re really sweaty,” Mishima intones, tongue stuck out.

“So are you,” Goro growls, grabbing him by the side of his face. It makes Mishima whimper quietly. “But you don’t see me complaining, do you?”

“You also haven’t _licked_ me,” Mishima grumbles, and Goro jolts when Mishima presses his hand against his lap, above Goro’s not hard and _certainly_ not soft cock. “Can I?” he asks.

“Can you _what?_ ” Goro snaps.

Mishima’s tongue darts out over his pink lips. “Lick you.”

It makes the heat already under Goro’s skin light like an inferno, even as he scowls at the honestly trite wording. But Mishima looks so earnest, eyes wide and dark, mouth already slick and plump from the way he’s been chewing on his lip. Goro wants to kiss him. He probably tastes like sweat.

“Who am I to stop you?” he coos, going for saccharine and pleasant. “Don’t complain about the _taste_ ,” he sneers, even as Mishima’s eyes brighten further, another one of his idiotic pervert fantasies filled. Goro might as well make him a bingo card at this point.

Mishima pays his tone no mind, and Goro scoots the car forward as he arranges himself over the middle console with an unflattering and somehow still endearing shift of his hips, only to nuzzle against Goro’s bare hip, between his tight fitting tank top and even tighter fitting pants.

And, alright, Goro would be lying to say he didn’t _like_ the idea of Mishima trying to suck his cock while he drives, but that would be under more… controllable circumstances, ideally. Not sweat slick and _salty_ , nearly melting into the floorboard. But Mishima nips at his side, and doesn’t complain about his no doubt salty skin, and Goro puts a hand on his head gently, feeling Mishima fumble with his pants.

“God, you’re sexy,” Mishima breathes, and Goro gives his hair a gentle tug as he frowns out at the street.

“I’m glad your mouth is going to be full soon,” he deadpans, though the second Mishima has extricated his cock from his underwear, Goro is tipping his head back against the headrest with a shaky breath.

He glances down and is immediately met with Mishima’s saucer wide eyes, blown out and heady, and Goro is unprepared for the way he doesn’t even seem to think of looking away as he licks a broad stripe up his cock, pulling away to show off a slick tongue.

“Insatiable little thing,” Goro growls, putting gentle pressure on Mishima’s head. “Suck.”

“Whatever you say,” Mishima breathes, and _now_ Goro knows he’s going to melt through the floor, because the heat of Mishima’s mouth around his cock is near _torture_ on top of everything else, combined with the way sweat makes him sticky, the impatient little moan Mishima makes out as Goro’s cock fills his mouth slowly.

Mishima’s eyes flicker up again and Goro tries not to let him see the uncontrolled way he’s sucking in breaths through parted lips. He bites down on his lip and winds fingers harder in Mishima’s hair. “Is this the best you’ve got?”

Mishima blinks, and then sinks down further, and Goro gasps as he’s fit snugly down Mishima’s throat, stroking gently at his hair as Mishima tries shakily to slide his tongue up Goro’s cock. He can barely manage, with a mouth so small, and Goro moans when Mishima squeezes at his thigh unconsciously, like he’s trying to steel himself.

“You’re doing well,” Goro whispers, as Mishima gives a pathetic little suck. He tries not to watch the way Mishima squirms, trying to worm his hand between his body and the seat in a desperate attempt to wrap his hand around what Goro is sure is his desperate, weeping cock.

He glances up just in time to see the car in front of them start off on a slow inch forward, that Goro recognizes as _progress_. He’s almost relieved. That is, until Mishima starts to bob his head slowly, choking out wet, obscene noises around Goro’s cock, like _he’s_ not the one going torturously slowly. Mishima’s tongue is sinful, and the hand he wraps around the base of Goro’s cock as he sucks at the head is guided by his spit, and Goro can’t do much but move the hand in Mishima’s hair down to grip at the back of his neck as Mishima works him over.

They really are starting to move a bit more now, but Goro is finding it hard to focus when he’s fighting to keep his eyes open with Mishima drooling on his cock, hand twisting until he can manage to shove the whole thing down his throat again with a desperate little whimper.

“Fuck,” Goro hisses, at the feeling of Mishima’s throat constricting tightly. “Are you doing this more for me or you?” he asks. Mishima moans instead of answering, and Goro is so overwhelmed he loses the point of the question at all in the heat of his mouth.

“Mishima,” Goro says, as the car in front of them finally pick up. He reaches down and tucks some of Mishima’s hair behind his ear as he makes a soft little gagging noise around his cock. “I’m going to get us out of traffic, and then I’m going to pull the car over somewhere secluded enough I can fuck you.” Mishima digs his nails into Goro’s leg with a groan.

He’s not expecting Mishima to pull off his cock with a delightful little pop, pressing his nose into Goro’s still clothed thigh. “Choke me on your dick while you drive?” he asks.

Goro slides his hands back up into Mishima’s hair. “All you had to do was ask.”

This time, when Mishima slides his lips around his cock, Goro barely gives him a moment before he’s pressing Mishima down into his lap, lips sealed tight and tongue working uselessly. His groan is warbled, distorted, and Goro is happy to hold him there, even as Mishima chokes and gags. He hasn’t tapped out, yet.

Eventually he lets go with a shudder, and Mishima slides off of his cock to gasp and pant wetly, before he dives back down on his cock, and Goro goes back to holding his head down, hearing the wet sounds of Mishima’s throat as it works.

They get out of traffic thankfully—miraculously—and Goro is fully unprepared to look down and find Mishima squeezing his eyes against a wave of overwhelmed, fucked out tears when he pops off of Goro’s cock this time.

God, what he wouldn’t give to kiss those off of his face. He glances back up at the road. Later. He can do it _later_.

Mishima doesn’t go back down on Goro, opting instead to bury his face in Goro’s hip and pant into his skin as his hand moves underneath him, stroking furtively at his cock.

Goro has barely pulled them into the empty back lot of a shut down gas station before he’s hauling Mishima up by the back of his shirt and pulling him into a bruising kiss, tasting himself on Mishima’s tongue as he drowns a desperate sound in his mouth. It seems like Mishima himself is doing no better, grappling at Goro’s chest and shoulders and trying to pull him backwards into his seat, and Goro only gets a hand on Mishima’s hip before he’s growling and leaning down to bury his nose in Mishima’s neck.

“Backseat,” he murmurs, even unwilling to let Mishima go. “Hurry.”

“I’m going,” Mishima gasps, trying to wiggle out of Goro’s hold. He doesn’t escape without one last kiss, and then another, and finally Goro lets him go to scramble into the back ungracefully, almost kneeing Goro in the face.

“Take your fucking pants off,” Goro snaps, reaching over to slam oven the glove compartment for a bottle of lube, before he’s following Mishima into the backseat with the heat forgotten at his back, ripping Mishima’s shorts the rest of the way off to spread his thighs and settle himself between them.

“Is this a good—” Mishima gasps, hand slamming upside down against the door when Goro upends the lube over his dick to watch it drip slowly down towards his hole, onto the seats. “Y-you’re gonna,” he gasps. “T-the fabric—”

“Who gives a _shit_ about the fabric,” Goro growls, bending one of Mishima’s knees up towards his chest to get better access. And _fuck_ , if that doesn’t make Mishima look beautiful and on display, panting as Goro skims hands along sticky skin until Mishima’s shirt is rucked up over his chest.

He yelps when Goro leans down and fits his mouth around one of his nipples, and then keens when Goro presses two fingers inside of him immediately, tasting salt and feeling wet, hot, heat. Mishima’s spine stretches long as he gasps up towards the ceiling, mouth going slack as Goro fucks him with his fingers, moaning around Mishima’s raised nipple.

“Faster,” Mishima gasps, legs twitching. “H-harder, Goro, _please_.”

Goro glances up to watch the way Mishima’s tears take up residence on his cheek again, sliding shinily down towards his seats, and Goro thinks he looks too beautiful like this, so spread out, hair a mess, sweaty and barely sucking in enough air.

“This isn’t to get you off,” Goro growls, even as he gives in anyway, leaning away watch the way Mishima’s throat works, how he lifts a hand to bite down into a fist as Goro curves his fingers and _fucks_ him. “It’s to give me enough room to _fit._ ”

“ _Yes,”_ Mishima pants, rocking onto Goro’s fingers. “Yes, yes, yes, so f-fucking good, Goro, _god_ —”

He lifts the hand holding Mishima’s leg back to slick up his cock with leaking precum, and then echoes Mishima’s frustrated groan with his own relieved one as he wraps a hand around Mishima’s slick cock.

“ _Fuck_ me,” Mishima gasps, face blotchy as dewy tears gather on his eyelashes. “Goro, fuck me, fuck me, _fuck me_ —”

Goro wants to blame it on the heat when he slides into Mishima slow, slow, slow, barely feeding him any of his cock, just to watch Mishima’s face crumble, his voice catching as he starts to cry harder. And then, just as easily, Goro slams inside, and it’s all Mishima can do to reach up and brace both hands against the door as Goro starts to move, biting out a low sound when Mishima clamps down on him near painfully, head tipped back as he sobs.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Goro snarls, and braces one hand against Mishima’s hip, the other next to his head as he leans down and slots their mouths together. Mishima can’t even kiss straight, moaning as Goro sucks on his tongue and feels his tears smear across his face.

When he wraps a hand around Mishima’s cock he _wails_ , and nearly kicks Goro again as he tries to get his hips to meet each one of Goro’s too quick thrusts.

“Tell me to stop,” Goro pants, slicking up his hand with leftover lube.

“ _Don’t_ ,” Mishima cries. “C-can’t— _hah_ — _don’t_ , I need it, I need you, g- _nnng_ , Goro!”

“Fuck, _hush_ ,” Goro groans, even as he pulls Mishima back to fuck him harder. “Desperate, fucking—”

“I’m gonna come!” Mishima shouts, eyes flying open like it’s taken him by surprise. Goro kisses him again when Mishima puts a hand on his face, slicking up his hand with precum and lube on Mishima’s cock as his breathing pitches up, spine arching tight as he comes with a keen, gasping as Goro fucks him through his orgasm, still as hard and rough as before, until Mishima’s breath is catching on each stroke, oversensitive and overwhelmed.

“Face?” Mishima mewls, as Goro tries to slow his hips. He’s so _close_ , and he’s so out of it he doesn’t even hear what Mishima is saying until he slides his hands down Goro’s face urgently. “Goro, _Goro_ ,” he breathes. “Come on my face?”

“Shit,” Goro breathes, pulling out of Mishima just to watch him raise up shakily onto his elbows so Goro can straddle his face, hand working over his cock. He presses his palm to the window with a sigh as Mishima’s mouth drops open, tongue lolling out as he blinks at Goro’s cock. “Beautiful, Yuuki, god, _perfect,_ take it just like that.”

Mishima’s cheeks are still wet when his eyes dart up, and Goro is swallowing an embarrassing moan when he comes, spiling messily onto Mishima’s tongue, across his mouth, up his cheek. Mishima never closes his eyes through it, holding Goro’s gaze as he pants brokenly around a mouthful of come.

“Swallow,” Goro rasps, and Mishima does as told, tongue sliding back into his mouth as he tips his head back with a deep, satisfied sigh. Goro thinks it’s one of the prettiest things he’s ever seen.

He shuffles back and grabs Mishima by the chin to kiss him again, slowly, still trying to get the delicate little buzzing out of his head that swept in along with his orgasm. Mishima seems to be having more trouble than he is, whining softly as he pulls Goro closer, crushing them into the backseat, heat radiating all out of the car.

“Goro,” Mishima says hoarsely, tipping his chin up to break the kiss. “Where are we?”

Goro blinks, and glances around the empty back lot. He’s not… really sure. “A gas station?” he guesses.

“Great,” he breathes. “How far from home are we?”

Goro swipes his thumb through a little bit of the come lingering on Mishima’s face, sliding it down towards his mouth. “Are you asking me that because you want to know, or because you want me to fuck you again when we get back?”

“Mhm,” Mishima says around his finger, sucking gently.

Goro shakes his head with a laugh, before he presses a kiss to Mishima’s forehead. “Get us directions. I’ll turn the air conditioning up again.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for getting though this lol. This fic started in... a very different direction than it ended up. Anyway! My [twitter](https://twitter.com/tobi_yos), if you need it for nefarious purposes. Ciao


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